The Lady Saints Part 1 finishing sequel to follow
by Andromeda Wind
Summary: The Boondock Saints join up with childhood friends Kiley and Ciara O'Fallon to continue their fight against bad men
1. Unione del Destino

Connor MacManus bent before the statue of the Virgin Mary, bowing his head. When he realized his brother, Murphy, wasn't right beside him, he glanced impatiently over his right shoulder. The black shirt sleeve there was torn, soaked in blood.  It was only the first of many unusual sights the Monsignor had become used to seeing when the brothers were involved.  Murphy was there, moving more slowly and with a drawn step.  He favored his left leg, but was doing his best to put on a valiant bravado in the presence of God.  Connor allowed him to go through with his personal form of penance, knowing there was more to the way Murphy thought than he let on.  

             Finally, Murphy managed to take to his knees, and together they crossed themselves in perfect synchronicity.  Connor took an incense stick from a crystal jar on the altar and passed it to his brother, then took another for himself.  They lit the sticks over the mother flame together, then they each selected a candle and lit it.  Connor set his incense aside, then took Murphy's from him and placed it with the other.  Connor spared a glance to his right side, where Murphy always walked.  His brother seemed more troubled than he let on, but Connor said nothing.  It was often this way with Murphy when he got into one of his moods.  Murphy met his eyes, half-cocking his head as though reminding his brother of the task at hand.

"Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee;

Blessed art thou amongst women,

And blessed is the fruit of thou womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,

Now and at the hour of our death.

Amen."

Both bowed their heads reverently, whispering personal prayers to the Virgin.  After a slight nod from his brother, Connor rose to his feet, taking Murphy under his arm and hauling him to his feet.  The curious eyes of the sisters followed their backs as they walked slowly up the red carpet in the aisle and paused at the door. Connor pulled the wrought-iron handle, causing the door to creak slightly on its aging hinges.  "You dinna tell me ya actually took that shot to yer kneecap, Murph," Connor scolded as they blinked the sun from their eyes and put on sunglasses.  Connor smoothed his brown-blond hair with a tattooed hand.

"Just a flesh wound," Murphy retorted in a bemused tone.  

"My arse!"  Murphy smiled crookedly.  

"Always saving me arse, aren't ya?"  Connor cuffed his brother across the cheek, and they both burst into laughter.  Papa MacManus met them at the street corner, his graying hair covered with a leather hat.  

"What kept ya?" he asked them, smiling that same half-smile both of his sons had been gifted with genetically.  

"Murph's got himself a bad leg, Da.  Dinna say a word about it, neither!"  Both sons pulled cigarettes from their pockets and lit them, wreathing the street sign in smoke.  

"Let's go 'ome and have a look, then.  There's much to be done tonight."  The boys nodded mechanically.  They accepted their father's word without question.  

"Does that mean you've found some dirt, Da?" Murphy burst out excitedly.  He seemed less aware of the pain in his leg when there was work to be done.

"'O course it does," Connor answered for him, shaking his head. Sometimes Murphy 

could be so childish.  "What did ya find out, Da?" Connor asked reluctantly.  It seemed like they were pulling a job every other night.  It made Connor sick to think that there were that many evil men in the town of Boston.

"Somethin' less serious than you'd think.  Yer cousin Brighid is comin' out this way.  Yer Mam called and asked fer us to collect her at the train station.  All work and no play has made ya too serious.  It'll be a nice change to have women around brightening things up.  Nae doubt she'll have news from the Isle."

Murphy remembered the last time he had played with Brighid and two of her friends.  It seemed that the trio was inseparable.  One of her friends, Ciara O'Fallon, had been a whole year younger than her sister, Kiley, but one could have sworn the three of them were triplets born.  Even though his mother had threatened to tan his backside, he had often snuck off during recess around the corner to the girl's side of the school, meeting Brighid and her friends and sharing sandwiches with them.  Connor, of course, was the good son, and only ever showed his face around the girls outside of school, and even then only when appropriate. This thought brought a smirk to Murphy's face, bringing to mind Connor's failure to speak with women.  

He remembered running through the streets with the girls, hiding behind stacks of crates and diving into back-alleys to keep from being seen.  They had just turned down such an alley, gray mixed with wetter shades of gray from the rain, walls rising up to bite a cloud-covered sky threatening to pour down more rain.  Murphy had glanced over his shoulder to see if they had managed to stay behind him when he ran smack into someone.  He tumbled ungracefully head over heels into a pile of garbage, booted feet squelching in the mud as he tried to catch his footing.  A loud, belly laugh greeted his ears.  

"Slow down, Murph!  Look where yer going, ya silly arse!"  Connor stood over him, mud-soaked from the collision but still cheerful.  Connor glanced up as the girls caught up to them, smiling slightly.  "Ya may wanta get home before yer da finds ya here, Kiley, and take yer sis wi' ya.  I hear he's mad flaming that yeh've gone missing again."  Kiley glanced at Ciara, tugging at unruly tangles of red-blond hair.  Ciara just blinked, then nodded slowly.  Kiley led the way back out of the alley, not waiting for her sister to follow.  Ciara smiled shyly at Murphy, watched him get to his feet, and then took off after her sister.  

"And what of me?"  Brighid asked.

"Yer mam has news as well.  Ye'll be movin' tonight, I expect.  They've transferred yer da to a new town to lay the railroad."  Murphy had left part of his heart back in the alley.  It was the last time he had ever felt the euphoria of childhood innocence again.  It had been that very night that their father had disappeared without a trace, leaving behind him rumors and theories that Murphy was certain still held to that day.

"Ya feelin' okay, Murph?"  Connor asked, worried by his brother's stone silence.  

"I'll be fine," he replied, shaking his head.  He tugged his pants off one leg at a time, revealing a very nasty bruise across his left knee. The Russian Mafia Soldier had scored a hit with that crowbar, but he had paid for his evil with his life.  Murphy sank moodily on the bed in his boxers, clutching his head in his hands.  Connor sat down on his own bed, pulling his shirt over his head.  He looked unconcerned as he wrapped his arm.  Papa handed Murphy a clear plastic bag filled with ice and slumped down next to him.  

"That one certainly did do a number on ya," he said matter-of-factly. Murphy winced as he applied the pack to his swollen joint, but said nothing.  "I hear yer cuz is bringin' someone along.  Yer mam would hear nothin' of her goin' alone."

"When does the train get in?" Connor asked, looking up at the water dripping from the concrete ceiling.

"About an hour, give or take."

"How much does Brighid know?"

"Everything, I suppose.  At least as much as your mam."  Murphy shook his head.  

"Ya can't expect yer mam to keep her mouth shut.  She's your mother, after all."  Connor managed a chuckle.  "This will be good for both o' yeh."

Ciara O'Fallon sat across from Brighid and her sister on the train, clever fingers clutching her rosary and stroking the blue beads.  Her red-brown hair fell across her dark eyes as she glanced up at them.  The steady rock of the train was becoming slower, more irregular.  They were slowing down.  Kiley smiled at her, hands folded over her own rosary in her lap.  Kiley had the same hair, but her eyes were fair blue, the color of the lakes in summer.  They were both dressed simply, Ciara in worn-in jeans and a black tanktop, and Kiley in a green skirt and white shirt.  Her hair was partially hidden by a blue scarf.  Ciara had been scolded often for her style of dress, but it had never stopped her.  

Next to Kiley, Brighid slept.  She was so fair in complexion compared to the freckled tans of the sisters, like a porcelain doll.  Her hair was red, but close to strawberry-blond in its lightness.  Like the brothers, she had a crooked smile which stayed on even as she slept.  She had on a conservative dress of blue and a spotless apron.  Her hair was covered, braided in child-like plaits down either side of her face.  All the girls were considered above average pretty, but none had decided to do their duty as women and settle down.  Kiley would never admit it, but Ciara knew Kiley was saving herself for Connor.  Ciara hadn't decided herself what she wanted, but knew that she valued her freedom above all else.  Brighid was still sheltered by her mother.  It had taken both sisters and a very large push from Brighid's aunt to get her mother to allow her to travel to Boston.  

As the train ground to a halt, Kiley shook Brighid gently.  "Coom on, love, ye'll miss everythin' sleepin' like that," Kiley said.  Her voice was musical to American ears, as her accent was still thick with the sounds of home.  Ciara ignored the stares from some of the men in the car with them, getting to her feet.  She reached into the overhead storage space and pulled a pea-green duffel bag down, slinging it across her shoulder.  She waited patiently as her sister gathered her things together and hooked Brighid by the arm.  

Ciara hadn't seen Murphy since they were six years old, but she could still pick him out of a crowd.  He and his brother leaned casually against the wall of the platform, pulling deep drags off of their cigarettes.  She nudged her sister, who pointed them out to Brighid.  It was as though a sudden transformation overcame her when she finally saw Connor.  Brighid pulled her arm free of Kiley's grasp and rushed over to her cousin, throwing her arms around his neck.  Kiley ran after her, laughing as Murphy picked her up and twirled her around.  Ciara hung back for a moment, watching them with a slight smile across her face.  She grinned broadly as Connor embraced her then held her at arm's length, studying her.  Murphy finally realized she was there, and stood across from her, just meeting her eyes.  "Hello, Ciara," he muttered softly.  He kicked his foot like a naughty child.  Something twisted in her chest when he looked her over.  He seemed interested in the small tattoo of a Celtic cross which twisted along the muscle of her upper left arm.  Finally, he crushed her with one of his famous, companionable hugs, which she returned with enthusiasm.  Papa MacManus just smiled as the girls greeted him.  "You three are a sight for sore eyes," he said softly.  "Ciara, yer mam actually lets you wear that?"

"Mam dinna like it, but, it's hard to persuade Ciara to be anythin' but different," Kiley answered for her.  Murphy and Connor laughed aloud.  

"Never changing, are ya?" Murphy asked.  

Brighid engaged Papa in a conversation about the state of the relatives, leaving the brothers free to show their guests a few of the sights.  Kiley laughed often, a pretty, feminine laugh, making Ciara regret she wasn't more ladylike.  Her sister seemed to hold the boys' attention.  But what was she worried about?  Men would only make her a wife, and she wanted freedom.  She fingered her rosary in her pocket, stomping out her own spark of self-criticism before she could get started.  


	2. Sors de Vicis

Connor felt the water dripping from the ceiling and down his shoulder.  He wasn't used to sleeping dressed, or on the floor for that matter, but it was a small sacrifice for the temporary happiness he felt at seeing the girls again.  He hadn't realized how much he'd forgotten the beauty that could be found in the Isle.  He smoothed his disheveled hair, rolling onto his back.  Connor was sleeping between their beds.  From under the one to his left, he could just make out Murphy's mocking smile in the dim.  Connor smiled back, biting back the urge to laugh.  They made quite the pair, sleeping on the floor like two tramps.  Curse them from being so chivalrous.  Further study of the room showed no sign of their father, but it wasn't unusual for him to disappear at all hours of the night to collect tools for their ventures.  

Murphy stretched fitfully, pulling himself up on his elbows and shaking his head.  He fumbled about in the lacking light for his boots, pulling them on.  Connor got soundlessly to his feet, joining his brother at the unbalanced, round table in the corner.  They both sat for a moment, not daring to break the silence.  Connor smiled indulgently as he watched the steady rise and fall of Kiley and Brighid's breaths.  They were huddled together on his bed, wrapped in separate blankets.  Ciara was on Murphy's bed, sleeping without the warmth of covers.  She had given hers up when the other two had fought over the blanket.  She seemed less at ease, like she was ready to spring at a moment's notice.  The brothers couldn't help but wonder what sort of trouble came to her in her dreams and made her so jumpy.  She almost seemed to be waiting for someone to come close enough to surprise her.  Compared to the other girls, she seemed so different indeed.  She was taller, more wiry than her friend or sister.  She didn't have the same feminine softness of the other two.  She seemed lonely indeed.

Papa MacManus reappeared, holding a finger to his lips.  He had a huge black sack across one shoulder.  He gestured them to follow him out the door with a large hand.  Rising, Connor took their rosaries off the wall and passed Murphy's over.  Pulling on their coats, they passed quietly into the hall and out into the night.  Smecker was waiting downstairs for them, dressed in a brown trenchcoat.  His face looked grim in the streetlamp.  "We got us a big mess this time, boys," he said.  "They came into your pal Doc's bar and wiped out half the clientele.  It's very messy, definitely someone with a vendetta."

"Doc!" Murphy nearly shouted, ready to take off in the direction of the bar.  Connor touched his arm, bringing him back to the present.  

"Doc was shot in the arm.  Nothing fatal.  They released him from the hospital an hour ago."  Murphy nodded slowly, his resolve returning.  As they walked, Papa MacManus, Il Duce, offered his plan.

Ciara rolled over uncomfortably, forcing the room into focus.  She sensed something was deathly wrong, and managed to keep herself completely still.  She could hear someone's stifled cries in the bed next to her.  Was it a dream?  She slowly rolled over, preparing herself for what she might find.  She met Kiley's terrified eyes for a moment, wishing she knew what was going on.  Upon gaining wakefulness, she could make out the ropes binding Kiley to the bedpost and realized the screams where Brighid's.  Two male shadows were bent over her, where she was handcuffed to a chair.  She could make out the young woman's bare breast in the filtered light, free of her torn dress. She was covered in cuts and bruises where they had buffeted her about the face and arms.  "How does that feel, you fuckin' Paddy?"  a voice ground out in her ear.  Ciara made to leap from the bed, but was met by a third man pressing the muzzle of a silenced rifle into her forehead.  

"Brighid!"  Kiley screamed, fighting against the ropes that held her.  Burns were rising on her wrists where the ropes cut in, blood running like stigmata into her palms. She gave an unearthly growl, straining harder.  Ciara kicked out at the man, slamming her fist into his chest and knocking his gun across the room in one move.  She dove at the other two men, engaging one as Kiley's bonds finally gave under the strain.  Wrists still tied, she leapt on the other man, pummeling his face.  She managed to disarm him, and picked up his gun.  

Three things happened in rapid succession.  Kiley fired the shot that killed her assailant, sending his lifeless body slamming to the floor.  The first man Ciara had knocked down found his gun, and scrambling to his knees, fired it right at Brighid.

"No!' Ciara cried, diving toward her friend in an attempt to shield her.  The bullet grazed her left arm and continued unchecked into its target.  "Oh, dear Lord, Brighid!  Brighid!"  Enraged, Ciara threw herself on the murderer, wrenching the gun free of his hands with a strength born of anger.  She slammed the butt of the weapon in his face, as it was unwieldy at such short range, and kept hitting him until he no longer stirred.  The third assailant made to leave, but Ciara raised the gun, checked for a shell in the chamber, and fired right over her sister's shoulder into the man's head.  As he shuddered in the final throes of death, Kiley burst into weeping, throwing herself over the still form of their friend.  

Struck dumb with what she had just done, Ciara let the rifle drop from numb fingers to the floor.  She fell to her knees, her head rolled forward as though no longer held up by her own control.  No tears fell from her eyes, but she still felt the grief.  After a long moment of silence, she walked on unsteady feet to Brighid's body, unbinding her hands from the chair and laying her across the floor.  Kiley forced herself to her feet and pulled the sheet off of Connor's bed, laying it over her friend as though tucking her into her final rest.  Ciara found a pencil and began scribbling fervently on the tile wall with it, lead lines forming a crude cross.  She took her rosary from her pocket, pressing it between cold, shaking fingers.  Kiley knelt next to her, joining her in begging the forgiveness of the Lord.  What had they done?  And why did it have to be Brighid?  Where were the MacManus men that they weren't there to care for their own?  All these thoughts raced through Ciara's mind as Kiley rested her head on Ciara's lap and lay quiet.  

Connor shook his head.  "They've disappeared like dust on the wind," he growled.

"Nothin'.  All we got was a load o' nothin'" Murphy added in agreement.  

"I think someone wanted us gone," Papa MacManus mused.  "But why?"  They rounded the final landing before the top of the stairs, pausing.  

"I think we know," Smecker said quietly, gesturing to the bloody handprint on their slightly ajar front door.  

"The girls!"  Murphy and Connor shouted in unison, breaking into a run.  The scene that met them was from a nightmare.  At first, all they saw was a body covered in a sheet, and the three dead men.  Blood was everywhere.  Upon closer inspection, Connor could make out Kiley's slowly breathing form sprawled out on Murphy's bed.  She was sleeping.  He pointed at her, raising a finger to his lips.  

Murphy found Ciara under the table, legs drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around her slender knees.  Her hands were covered in blood, and so was her shirt.  Her eyes burned holes into his heart.  There was such sadness and rage in them as he had never thought possible.  "Oh, Love, what happened? Are ya a'right?"  He dragged her trembling from beneath the table.  

"They came in after yeh left, three o' em.  Had Kiley roped to the bed an' yer…cousin…they were savaging her!  I had a gun to my head…it all happened so fast, me n' Kiley took 'em out…but not before…"  She stared dumbly at the body which was covered in the sheet.  "No remorse," she said through gritted teeth. 

"Never remorse," Murphy said to her, his voice deceptively calm as he held her hand.  

"Kiley's worse off 'n me.  She feels strongly for what she did.  All she said to me over and over again was 'What'll Connor think?'"  Smecker studied the men intently.  

"Looks like you gave them more than they bargained for," he remarked.  "You should be proud."

"No pride in taking life, but no remorse for the evil ones," Ciara replied, eyes smoldering.  

"The evil must die that the good live in prosperity," Kiley finished, looking at them from under hooded eyelids.  "So it has always been.  So it shall always be."


	3. Laxamentum de Pacis

Ciara stared at the blood seeping from the bullet wound.  The injury went right through the Celtic cross tattoo on her upper arm.  She flexed the muscle slowly. "I think it missed everythin' major," Connor remarked off-handedly as she opened her duffel bag and came out with a roll of gauze bandaging.  She shook her head, glancing up and managing a half-hearted smile to appease him.  

"So, what now?  Where do we go?" Kiley asked.  She had worn out shock and grief for the moment and seemed quite clear-minded.

"Well, we could go visit Doc an' see 'ow he's doin'.  A little drink wouldn't go amiss neither," Papa MacManus suggested.  "We'll find a place to stay 'til the press has gotten tired of tellin' this un."  Murphy nodded distractedly, lighting up another cigarette and taking a deep drag.  His knee twinged, and he grunted with the pain.  

"Come on then, what're we waitin' for?" Connor asked, pulling Kiley to her feet.

"Go wi'out me," Ciara said moodily, pulling the bandage tight before tying it off.  "I think I'll take a walk."  Kiley shook her head when Papa made to protest.  Shrugging, he led the way out the front door, sidestepping a body.  Smecker followed him, but glanced back over his shoulder at Kiley and Connor, who hesitated for a moment before joining them.  Murphy didn't follow them directly.  He sat down next to her on his bed, saying nothing.  He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, took another drag from his cigarette.

"Wanna discuss somethin' Ci?"

"I dinna plan on killin' anyone when I came out here," she said.  "An' I couldn't even stutter the family prayer to send these bastards to their rest.  I was strong for Kiley, but I think I need a good cry.  I dinna want you to see me."  Murphy nodded slowly.

"I'll go then.  The pub's right aroun' the corner…"

"But now I don' wanna be alone."  Ciara reached her hand out and her slender fingers closed around his wrist.  Murphy was riveted to the spot, not expecting the strange feeling in his chest.  "You an' Connor are so close.  Like me an' Kiley, only we're separate people.  You an' yer brother work like one clock, ticking together. I wish I had that kind of closeness with someone.  I feel so different from everyone else.  Back 'ome I catch 'ell from the parents of any man interested in me.  I am not tame enough to make a good Catholic wife.  I don' even know if I wanna be a wife.  I am just under a lot of pressure.  An' now, seein' what I am capable of under strain, I am afraid o' myself."  She drew her breath sharply in her chest, staring at her feet.  

"Connor an' I are terrified every day.  Da was always in an' out o' prison, he's been doin' this damn near 26 years.  Even he can feel it."

"What do ya mean, Murph?"

"You ever heard of the Saints?"

"You mean those avengers for God that roam aroun' this city?"

"Aye.  Well, we've been taking crime out from the inside, hittin' a new target every other night.  No one will ever turn us in, they know what we're about.  Even the police help us out."  Ciara shook her head, cocking her head slightly to meet his eyes.

"You, the Saints?  That's why all this happened!  They targeted ya!  Yer fugitives in an Urban 'Ell."  She had accepted that fact with more ease than Murphy had expected.  But then, he never would have thought Kiley capable of taking out an assailant with a gun, either.  These young women had hidden depths, something like the brothers, but more defined, more individually developed.  Murphy found Ciara's struggle to stand out quite attractive.  She was a pretty woman, but not expectant of any praise.  She didn't change herself to impress anyone, and he respected her for that.

"What will ya do?" he asked her after a moment's silent contemplation. "Will ya go 'ome, pretend that this never happened?  Or will you rise up to the path God 'as set before ya and join me an' Connor an' Da?"

"It isn't fair to ask me tha' alone.  It should be Kiley's choice, too.  But I will stay if she'll allow it."  Murphy took her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. His blue eyes changed intensity, sparkling with mischief.  

"You won' regret it, I swear."  Murphy leapt to his feet, picked her up, and twirled her around.  "What now?  Wan' to join yer sis and my family?"  Ciara nodded, allowing herself to be swept off down the hall.

"I got the perfect spot," Smecker said as he hung up the phone on the counter.  "One o' my boys is on an extended vacation.  He'll be gone for at least a year touring Europe. He offered his place to you, if you'll make it look occupied so he doesn't have to keep paying the neighbor boy." 

 Doc had outdone himself redecorating.  He had put in new mirrored glass behind the bar and refinished the old oak counter with a fresh coat of resin.  A couple of venerable Irishmen played at the pool table.  They had an ashtray overflowing with butts resting near a corner pocket, along with a couple of pints of beer.  Otherwise, the place was quiet.  Connor was nursing a bottle of whiskey, allowing Kiley to pour him shots so his glass wouldn't be empty.  She was taking swigs straight from the bottle, wiping an arm across her mouth as her sister walked in with Murphy.  

"Took ya long enough, fool," Connor greeted him, clapping his twin on the back.  Connor was always happier when he had had a few.  Tonight would be no exception, Murphy knew.  

"So, where we stayin'?" Murph asked Smecker.  The agent passed him a slip of paper with an address on it, and Murphy broke into a wide smile.  "Eh, Doc!  Martini for the agent!"  Doc bustled out from the back room.

"Keep yer h…h…hat on, Murph.  I'm comin'.  You know what they say.  Never look a gift horse in the pan."  

"Eh?" Ciara asked, eyebrows raised.

"Doc 'ere 'as a certain gift for words," Connor told her, smirking.

"Aye, a gift for mixin' 'em," Murphy finished, laughing and smacking his brother on the shoulder.  

"Will ya be goin' 'ome then?" Papa asked the girls as Ciara pulled up a stool.  Ciara glanced down the counter at her sister, who met her look with hardened resolve.  

"Nay.  We stay."  

"WOOOO!" Connor whooped, slamming a fist on the counter.  "Mikey, I think 'e likes it! "  Ciara shook her head and burst into laughter, and for once, it sounded sweet and feminine to her ears.  God had shown them the way.

"We need to study this new breed of enemy.  Obviously 'e knows more about us 'n we thought.  We were feeling too safe, not moving enough."  Papa MacManus paced back and forth across the carpeted living room floor of their commandeered residence.  Connor and Murphy followed him with their eyes, all their attention was his.  "Yer sure ya wan' to get the women involved?"

"I think that's really their choice, don' you?" Connor said coolly.  

"Aye, Da.  Their minds seem rather made-up.  An' I know they can take care o' themselves.  They won' be a liability."  Kiley entered the room then, dressed in a pair of hemmed jeans and a tanktop belonging to her sister.  Like the brothers, a bit of her rosary beads shone from around her neck, falling below the line of her shirt.  Connor opened his mouth, looking shocked.  Murphy smiled lop-sidedly and laughed maniacally as she finished the ensemble with a black trenchcoat.  Kiley made an elaborate bow, as though saluting them.  This caused further laughter.  "Very stylish," Murphy remarked.  "I must get the name of the designer…"  Ciara was in the kitchen, changing the dressing on her arm.  This was punctuated by a long stream of curses.  

"Are ya all righ' Ci?"  Kiley called.  

"Christ!  Fuck!  Ya. I'll be fine."

"'As a mouth like a sailor, that 'un," Papa said.  Smecker smirked, tightening his tie.  

"Luk at our da," Kiley replied.  This comment was punctuated by Ciara repenting the use of the use of her last curse.

                        "Mother o' God!  Hail Mary, full of grace…"  

                        "Now, now," Connor clucked in mock disapproval.  

                        "I'll be giving 'er some 'elp," Murphy said, exiting the room.  

                        "Anyone else seein' a trend?" Connor asked quietly, stifling a chuckle.

            "Yes, and it seems to affect you too, if my eyes serve me," Smecker returned.  As if to prove the point, Connor chased Kiley as she followed Murphy into the kitchen.  Ciara had been burning the wound with a metal ladle heated over a candle.  Her rosary was clenched tightly in her left fist as she burned away with her right.  

            "Was getting' infected," she explained through gritted teeth as she reheated the ladle for another go.  Murphy winced as the next stream of curses punctuated the scent of crisped flesh and the rise of smoke from her skin.  "Ruined a perfectly good tattoo, as well," she added, holding out her arm. Connor blinked back tears of pain just watching her do that to herself.  Kiley sat down and unwrapped her wrists. 

            "I 'ad a thought," Kiley said slowly.  "If they wanted to get ta ya by hurtin' us, why not put us up as bait?  They're bound to come 'round an' try to finish us.  We just hafta be in the right place at the right time, an' they have ta think you aren't there."

            "You think that's safe?" Smecker asked.

            "Why is this any diff'rent for a woman than a man?  We all have hearts that beat, and souls that link us to the Lord eternal," Ciara snapped.      

                        "Aye, an' yer not a good Catholic yerself from what I 'eard," Connor said teasingly.  Murphy took the gauze and began to roll it around Ciara's arm as she berated him for his skills.  

                        "Tighter, Murph.  I ain' even feelin' it yet!"

                        "I don' wanna 'urt ya," he replied.

                        "I'll teach ya pain, ya great sissy!"  She punched his arm. 

                        "Wha' was that for?" he whined. 

                        "_Ah, L'amour," Papa said, nudging Smecker.  "Sounds like the young 'uns 'ave a plan.  Ya may as well sleep the day away.  Tonight, we start 'untin'."  Smecker nodded in agreement, waved to Connor, who inclined his head and winked, and left. "I'm off to bed.  Don' be playin' too rough now.  Ye'll disturb my beauty sleep."_

                        "Aye, an' a lot o' good that's doin' yeh!"  Murphy's mocking voice rang in his ears.  

                        "Get yer fuckin' beauty sleep!" Connor added, chuckling as Murphy pulled a face and crossed his eyes.  Ciara rapped him smartly between the eyes, and he raised his hands to his face defensively.  

                        "S'nuff, both o' yeh.  Let yer poor da git 'is rest," Kiley chided, toying with Connor's fingers as he rested a hand on her knee.  

                        "I think we all should rest," Connor suggested softly, eyes half-lidded with weariness.  

                        "We 'ave ta share a room," Murphy remarked.  "Two beds, four people."

                        "The floor it is," Connor sighed.  Ciara took Murphy by the arm and dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hall.  

                        "Git comfy," she ordered, pointing sternly to one of the beds.  Murphy stared at her for a moment, not moving.  Shaking his head, his took his shirt off, then pulled off his belt.  He lay down on the bed, still slightly bewildered by her attitude.  Ciara tugged the blankets over him, smoothing them as though she were tucking in a child. Satisfied, she slid off her boots and lay down on top of the comforter next to him, running her fingers through his hair.  He swallowed uncomfortably, meeting her eyes with a mix of awe and confusion.  "In case yer worried about my honor," she snickered.  Murphy's muscular arm went around her waist, pulling her close.  After a long pause, where their breathing broke an unsteady rhythm in the silence, he sidled close enough that their foreheads touched, and he could study her eyes more closely.  Her eyes yielded no secrets to him, so he finally leaned in and kissed her; a gentle, if not timid sort of kiss, then opened his eyes in surprise as her arm went around his neck and she kissed him again, this time more deeply.  "G'night," she managed to stutter.  Before long she fell asleep, Murphy's arm wrapped protectively around her waist. 

                        When Connor and Kiley finally did come to bed, the sight that greeted them surprised them.  "What is she doin'?" Kiley hissed softly between her teeth, disbelief etched on her face.  

                        "Nothin' wrong.  See, the blanket's between 'em.  No doubt yer sis came up with that idea.  Murph never woulda done that on 'is own."  Connor placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "Some o' us are doers, and dwell less on the thinkin'.  That's our brother and sister.  Now, you an' I, we tend to be more cautious, think things through a little more.  But we're no less reckless when the time comes to act.  Yer sis mentioned you were worried about what I thought.  Any reason?"  Connor's question was simple enough, but Kiley felt her throat tighten and was glad for the darkness to cover the blush spreading across her cheeks like warm fire.  

                        "Innit obvious I like ya?  Yer brother caught it five seconds off the train.  Said somethin' to me about it."

                        "I'm not used to women being attracted to me.  I don' exactly have a magnetic personality," he admitted, fighting the urge to laugh as Rosengurtle Baumgartner came to mind.  

                        "But ya do.  Ya always showed up at the right moment, when that boy was bullyin' me, or when I just needed a laugh.  Ye've always 'ad my back."

                        "Yeh've always been like family to us, ya know that."  Kiley lowered her gaze, long lashes masking her pretty eyes.  Connor's hand went to her chin, forcing her to look up at him.  "What do ya want, Kiley?"  Kiley's arms trembled slightly as she wrapped them around his waist and her head rested on his shoulder.  His arms encircled her, drawing her in as she fought the urge to pull away.  His warmth was comforting.  He kissed her forehead, eyes closed as he wondered why he had never felt attached somehow to her before.  It was as though God had sent the brothers angels to keep them anchored in reality while they did their work.  His lips met hers, not demanding, but rather sharing in her kiss.  Their blossoming relationship was more soft and slow than the more emotional, demanding love of their siblings.  As Kiley got an extra blanket off of the living room couch and rested her head in the crook of his arm, Connor knew somehow that they were home, and everything was right with the world for a single moment, no matter what tomorrow's ominous cloud would throw at them.  Sighing contentedly, he stroked Kiley's hair until he joined her in the land of sleep.


	4. Riunione delle Anime

Murphy awoke to the soft rise and fall of Ciara's steady breathing.  Her weight on his arm was sweet.  He didn't move for fear of waking her.  Her fragrant curls cascaded across his shoulder like a sunset-tinted waterfall, soft against his skin.  

Over the smooth curve of her cheek he could see Connor and Kiley curled up.  After his eyes had adjusted to the dimness of the early dawn light, he could see that Connor was awake, and smiling at him.  Murphy returned the smile, his eyes sparkling a deep azure.  

Despite similarities inherent in most twins, he was beginning to realize just how different they were from one another.  Connor had laughter lines framing his eyes, which shone ice-blue.  He was slightly taller, and the weight of his years sometimes seemed heavy on his shoulders.  Murphy seemed carefree and youthful in comparison, as though God had wanted both faces in the MacManus children.  It had always seemed to Murphy that Connor and himself were the same.  Being with the women had taught him different.   He watched as his brother slid his arm carefully from beneath Kiley's head and buttoned his fly.  Kiley didn't stir as Connor did so.  Before he knew it, Connor had left the room, boots and belt in hand.  

Murphy breathed the scent of Ciara's hair contentedly, then moved her off his arm as well, following his brother from the room.  Smecker was waiting on the couch for them, a bemused expression on his face as he tried to hide behind a copy of the Boston Herald.  On the front page was a picture of Brighid's body, no longer covered up.  Murphy seated himself on the couch, trying not to look.  Connor stared for a moment, a sharp, hissing breath drawn through his teeth breaking the silence.  "It's not too pleasant," Smecker mused quietly. 

"I wonder what really happened there," their father said, his tone of voice subdued.

"I could tell you, but you'd have to swear not to tell Kiley you know," a fourth voice added to the conversation.  Ciara was smoothing her unruly hair back into a braid with surprisingly clever hands.  She looked delightfully disheveled.  

With one smooth movement, she sank to the floor, drawing her knees once again to her chest.  With an angry tremor in her voice, she described the rape of their cousin, Kiley's bound wrists, and the attack.  When she got to the part where she had tried to stop the bullet, her shoulders trembled violently, and her head sank to her knees.  Connor suspected she was hiding her tears.  "There was no avoiding it.  Someone 'ad to die, and I dinna wan' to be the one in the bodybag."  The justification.  Connor remembered the first time they had killed in vengeance.  Memories of their friend David Della Rocco in his last moments flooded his mind's eye; the horror of his friend's blood spattering across his cheek, Murphy fighting his way over to Rocco, still chained to the chair…He knew well what the girls must have been feeling in their encounter, the tension and adrenaline bleeding together in a slate shade of gray.  Even as Murphy sat beside him, numb and tense, Connor knew his brother had feelings for this woman.  And that his grief for Brighid was most likely ten times worse.  They had played together all the time, while Connor, as his serious self, had spent his time in prayer.

He could remember sitting in his father's lap, quietly reciting verses from the Bible while his brother eyed the barrel of Da's gun.  Murphy had always been the doer, as Kiley had mentioned the night before.  He could still remember when they had left Ireland behind them to follow in the footsteps of their father, Brighid and company standing at the train station, wanting to see them off.  Ciara had seemed so carefree, so feminine and pretty.  Kiley had no strength to hide her tears then, and Brighid, sweet like the virgin schoolgirl she was, light tears on her lashes, blue-green eyes shining with sadness as they climbed aboard and left their childhood behind…He bit back his own grief as he watched Ciara disappear into the kitchen.  What had they done, leaving the girls alone in the apartment?  Guilt overwhelmed him.  They should have split up.  Someone should have stayed to watch over them.  But that wasn't their way.

"Connor?  Ya a'right?" Murphy asked his brother, hand gripping his arm.  

"I'll be fine.  Go see to Ciara," he ordered.  Connor watched his brother chase Ciara into the next room.  The feeling that the ordeal had been his fault cut him like the edge of a sharp knife in his gut.  

Ciara prepared breakfast for the group while she struggled to control her rage.  She had her back to the living room, shifting ingredients for omelettes around on the counter.  She chided herself as a teardrop landed in the empty bowl she would use to make biscuits in.  "I'm stronger than this," she growled to herself under her breath.

"Even I cry," a soft voice assured her, strong arms dragging her into an embrace from behind.  The warmth of Murphy's breath hung in her hair as his unshaven cheek tickled her own smooth one.  "Ya counna done more than ya did," he told her, turning her to face him. She stared at his bare feet, toe to toe with her own.  His hand forced her chin up until she was meeting his eyes.  "No one blames ya."

"I blame myself.  I shoulda been on my guard, like I a'ways am," she said sulkily.  

"No one's perfect.  Let me tell ya somethin', Ci.  I did me best to save a friend o' mine, but he died anyhow.  I try not to talk about it, it makes Connor act strange.  That's why Connor dinna wan't you two ta join us, even if he dinna say so.  The last person who helped us died."

"I don't fear death," Ciara said, suddenly hard. Her eyes tensed into emerald flint.

"No, but it would…" Murphy trailed off, suddenly very intent on his hands.

"Would what?"

"It would wound me like a knife."  She was suddenly caught in the sapphire intensity of his eyes.  He held her there with his eyes alone, breathless.  Neither one moved for a long moment. That was, until Kiley burst into the room.  

"Thought I'd 'elp wi' the biscuits," she explained, hiding her embarrassment at discovering them there. Ciara nodded, a smirk crossing her lips as she winked at Murphy.    
"Get out o'ere then, let us cook!"  She ushered him out into the living room, where he stared at her with schoolboy longing from the next room. She tried to hide the smile spreading across her features as Kiley glanced over at her.  Both became aware of eyes on their backs as they moved about their business.

"D'ya think we did the righ' thing, stayin' 'ere?" Kiley whispered.

"Have ya seen Connor smile?  An' all we'd 'ave back home to deal wi' is the mournin' of a family for their kin."  Connor would be enough to make her stay.  Kiley had had a crush on Connor since she had first lay eyes on him.  They had been three years old at the time.  Ciara, though still a toddler, could remember the meeting as vividly as if it were yesterday.  Kiley had said she would marry that boy.  And it seemed that time had done nothing to change her mind.  

Pulling the biscuits from the oven, Kiley straightened and set them on the table.  Ciara had set the dining room table like she had done when they lived with their mother, every plate and fork in its place.  

She finally realized that her wound was burning.  Medical training had become a handy study for her overnight.  She was glad she had taken the classes.  Sitting down, she tore through the gauze wrap and began to take stock of her injury.  The others filed in for breakfast, seating themselves at the table.  "I don' like the idea, leavin' these two alone as bait," Connor's soft bass argued as he entered the kitchen.  

"It's the best idea we've got to work with," Smecker replied, doing his best to sate Connor's worry.  

"They'll be fine," their father assured.  Murphy kept his mouth closed, though it was drawn out at the corners. He wanted to say something, but he knew it would do them little good to bicker.  Connor glanced over at his twin, seeking help, but he found none.  Murphy was staring out the back screen door at Ciara.  

"Ci is trained in martial arts an' hand ta hand.  She c'n take care of herself," Kiley stated.  "An' I am handy with a gun.  We'll be okay."  She dug her fingers into Connor's tense shoulders, continuing as he arched his back in pleasure.  "Now eat."  Connor had never denied an Irishwoman's orders when it came to matters of the household.  The girls were excellent cooks, and the men quickly cleared the table with their appetites.  Ciara still hadn't come inside.  

"Ciara, aren't ya goin' ta eat somethin'?" Papa MacManus beckoned her.

"I'll be fine, no worries."  Her voice seemed withdrawn, as though she were deep in thought.  

"Ci, git in here!" Kiley called.  Ciara shook her head.  "Come on, Ci, we're planning!"  Ciara slowly got to her feet, clutching her arm.  Murphy could see from beneath her hand that the wound on her arm was bleeding afresh.  She said nothing as she seated herself next to him and looked down at the tablecloth.  

"I think we should put ya right where they found ya," Il Duce said.  "Ya know they'll be back to collect what they left.  It'll be a good opportunity."  

"One of us should wait with 'em." Connor said.

"We'll watch from closed-circuit camera.  As soon as we think things are out of control, we'll come in to back the ladies up."  Smecker smiled reassuringly.

"Ciara?" Kiley asked.  She seemed to be a little lost.  

"Sounds fine," she said weakly, managing a smile.  "I need ta go ta church."

"We need ta get arms anyhow," Murphy replied.  Connor nodded.  Church was a regular stop on their outings.  

"Why don' the four o' yeh go get ready, then.  Smecker an' I will go back to the apartment an' rig the video."  Connor nodded again.  Murphy wondered what had gotten into his brother.  Connor was always the first to come up with an idea.  He was the first to put it into motion.  Even after his father's orders had slipped in one ear and out the other.  Something was wrong.  There was a feeling of intensity in the room that Murphy was certain stemmed from worry.  He glanced at Kiley.  She smiled and led Connor from the kitchen to get ready.  He seemed to perk up as soon as she laughed and cocked her head prettily.  She managed to keep her feminine edge no matter how she dressed.  Murphy admired that.  

"Ci, are ya feelin' a'right?"  She nodded slowly.  "Don' lie."  

"I'm fine," she said irritably.  Why is everyone a'ways so worried about me? I'll be fine."

"Take it easy, Darlin'," he exclaimed, taken aback by her animosity.  "If ya don' wanna talk, just say so."  Murphy waited a moment, then stomped out of the room.  Ciara watched him go with hard eyes.  If only he knew what she had figured out…She wanted to call him to come back, but she knew it was Murphy's way to have a good sulk before he would talk.  

"Kiley, you look scared," Connor whispered.

"Terrified."

"I was too, the first time I did this.  It'll be fine."  Kiley smiled.

"I believe ya," she replied, smiling more broadly as he pulled her closer to him and sighed.  "I'll be fine.  I'm not sure Ci'll be, though."  Connor nodded slowly.  She looked up at him again, lake-blue eyes shining.  Connor bent over and kissed her gently, fingers twining through her hair as she returned the gesture.  God, her kiss burned his blood like fire through his veins.  

"Kiley?"

"Yes?" she asked, feeling him shake nervously as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.  

"I think I love ya." 

"I think I love ya too, Dear."  Connor hugged her tightly for a moment, letting go as his brother burst, brooding, into the bedroom. 

"Murph?" Connor asked.  His voice held his brother still.  Kiley took the hint and left the two alone.

"I don' know how to handle 'er," he grumbled.

"Ciara?"

"Aye.  She's about as readable as a blank book.  She won' tell me what's wrong."

"Sure she 'as a good reason, Murph.  Don' let it get ta ya. We have a job ta do.  Ya need ta 'ave a clear mind."  Murphy sank onto the bed, and Connor sat across from him.   "Seriously.  She'll tell ya when she's ready."

"Since when did you become a ladies' man, Connor?" Murphy raged. 

"I dinna claim ta be."  Murphy shook his head.

"I'm sorry, that wasn't right."  Connor was used to these mood swings.  

"It's not yer fault.  I know how ya feel."  As the brothers stood, embracing one another, Kiley burst breathlessly through the door.  

"Sorry ta interrupt.  It's Ciara.  She's gone." Murphy rushed around the room, arming himself with his Magnum and pulling on his P-coat.  Kiley's brow furrowed with worry as she chased him from the room.  Wide-eyed, she gestured urgently to Connor, who grabbed her hand and ran after his brother.  


	5. Amore D'Emersione

Murphy bit back tears as he ran, ignoring his brother calling to him and Kiley's sweet voice as she called her sister's name.  This was his fault.  He should have stayed.  Maybe she would have told him if he had stayed to find out what was wrong… A feeling of dread overcame him as he saw a familiar car parked out in front of the church.  This was the car of an Italian Don they had been gunning for for some time.  Throwing all caution to the winds, he burst through the door and into the church, Connor and Kiley right behind him.  He had his hand on his gun as he came crashing to a halt, surveying the scene.  Ciara was bent in the front pew, saying her Rosary prayer.  Next to her, the Don, Algo Cassini, was waiting.  He had thinning hair, though he was still young.  He was dressed in an expensive suit.  Ciara hadn't moved, but there was tenseness in her body language that made Murphy want to spring.  "Wait," Connor whispered.

Murphy recalled the last time he had been in this situation, watching Ciara from afar.  He had been thirteen, and had wanted to invite her to a May Day celebration to dance. The other boy asked first, and she had gone with him.  It was like seeing his childhood flash before him every time he looked at her. Now, still stooped over the pew, with Algo Cassini right next to her.  "I can't" he growled softly, creeping toward the front row.

"Murphy!" Kiley hissed.

Ciara knew Algo would come looking for her after she had disappeared the last time.  And she had realized while tending her wound that morning that those men who had attacked them had been his, and that he had wanted her alive.  She wasn't tied up, wasn't restrained in any way like her sister or Brighid.  She pretended not to notice him as he crossed himself and sank down next to her.  She had to repent for Brighid's death.  It was her fault for falling for the wrong type of man, as usual…She could see Murphy moving out of the corner of her eye.  Catching his eye, she shook her head slightly.  "Algo, what brings you here?" she asked with feigned calm.  

"I want you back," he explained, voice heavy with Italian accent.

"Killing me best friend wasn't the way to my 'eart," she replied.

"I'm so sorry, Ciara.  Come back to me."  Cocking her head slightly, she looked him in the eye.

"I canna.  Ya hurt me last time.  I won't go back."

"I have changed, Kitten."

"I am not yer kitten," she returned, insolence in her undertone.  Murphy's eyes widened as he heard their conversation.  Ciara had dated a Mafia Don? Was she insane?  Did she have a clue what that entailed? 

But he wouldn't make assumptions until he had a chance to talk to her face-to-face. Algo's face was turning an odd shade of purple.

"Fine.  I will see you when you are in a better mood."

"That'll never happen, Algo."  She lowered her eyes, thinking of a quick way out without bloodshed in a church. 

"I'll have you or no one will!" he shouted suddenly, his voice echoing eerily off the stained glass windows and buttresses.  He grabbed her throat with a big hand, attempting to lift her off the ground.  She could hear the click of the hammer being pulled back on Murphy's gun 

echo like needles grinding against her spine as she fought for breath.  She gained a sudden foothold on the pew, kicking out with her free leg into the man's groin.  She dove into an acrobatic tumble out into the aisle, rising to her feet just in time to take a blow to her blocking arm.  Algo had no gun.  It was an opportune scenario for Ciara.  She sighed with relief as Kiley knocked the prepared gun from Murphy's hand.  It didn't go off, luckily, and she could hear Murphy yell out a challenge.  She watched in horror as the two men engaged one another.  Murphy was smaller, but his experience and speed was quickly winning out.  Connor was restraining Kiley from running into the fray, a look of horrified fascination spreading across his countenance.  Blood ran from Murphy's nose as he pummeled Algo across the face.  He broke the Italian Don's arm with a sickening crunch of splintering bone, and Ciara cringed.  She watched with grim interest as he continued beating the man.  When he was still, Murphy still raged.  Ciara rushed over to him, voice filled with tears.

"Stop!  Murphy, stop!  He's dead!  We've got ta go before his soldiers find out!  Murphy!" She threw herself between the dead man and her enraged bodyguard.  When he made to move her, she grabbed his fist and kissed it, using his bulk as an anchor to lift herself to her knees.  "Come on," she whispered, watching enraged tears roll down his cheek.  Connor let Kiley bury her face in his arm.

"Let's git outta here," Connor ordered curtly, eyes throwing daggers at Ciara.  "What was all that, Ciara?  My brother was fightin' for ya, coulda been killed.  Ya dated a Don?"  Kiley pursed her lips, eyes widening matter-of-factly as she cocked her head at her sister.  

"I did," Ciara said, lowering her gaze.  "This was all my fault.  I thought Algo would ferget me, start over without me.  I was wrong." She kicked the curb with angry intensity as she followed them down the sidewalk and toward the house where they were staying.  "I fell for the wrong sort."

"I'll say," Connor scoffed, shaking his head.  He was angry, but still felt a wave of pity for the girl.  

"I can' believe ya, Ci," Murphy growled. "Ya coulda died, ya fool. God love ya, ya really dug yerself in deep!" He paced, brooding.  

"I'll leave then.  If ya don' want me here.  If ya woulda just been there when I needed ya to be, I never woulda gone seekin' out the wrong sort.  Decided I wasn't good enough for ya!  So there!  This is yer fault too!" she shouted.  She took off a few steps ahead of them, leaping up the porch steps and slamming the bedroom door before anyone could question her.  

"Well, that was interestin'," Kiley said a little too lightly, her voice strained.  Smecker and Il Duce stared down the hall at the closed door.

"What's goin' on here?" their father asked.

"Ya don' need ta worry bout them takin' the bait.  They're after Ciara.  She dated a Don, Da.  A Don!"  Connor paced the living room angrily.  "Murph coulda died!"

"Murph's in love," his father conceded.  "He'da done it regardless."  After a moment's silence, he broke in again.  "We stay with the plan.  Tomorrow.  Smecker an' I are goin' to his house tonight.  Ya can 'ave the other room.  Rest.  I 'ope all o' yeh are in better spirits tomorrow."  Smecker took the hint and followed Papa MacManus out of the house.  Murphy watched them go.  

"Go talk ta Ci," Connor said more calmly.  "Tell 'er I am sorry I blew up."  Kiley took Connor's hand and stroked his fingers.  He leaned over and kissed her, rested his head on her breast.  She helped him tug his boots off, then lay his head in her lap and ran her fingers softly through his hair until he fell asleep.  

            "Who is it?" Ciara's trembling voice asked from the other side of the door.  

            "It's me," Murphy replied, his voice was soft and sweet, not at all angry like it had been only moments before.  

            "Coom in."  She looked tearfully beautiful, lying there with her cheek pressed against the pillow.  He noticed the soft curve of her hip from where he stood.  He wondered why she had always seemed too tough for him before.  He walked on quiet feet toward the bed, closing the door behind himself.  He sat lightly on the edge of the bed she occupied, reaching his still-bloody hand out and touching her cheek.  Her hair fell at an angle across her dark green orbs, obscuring his view.  

            "I'm sorry," he whispered after a moment.  

            "I'm the one as should be sorry," she answered, but still didn't look up.  

            "Ci, did ya really mean what ya said?  About me?"

            "Aye, I always thought ya wanted someone like my sis.  I thought ya'd never learn to love someone like me."  She sat up slowly, hiding her eyes behind her hands.  Murphy moved her hand away with a gentle push, pressing her back against the pillows.  He bent down and kissed her hungrily, wondering why he had never voiced his feelings for her.  After a few minutes of sweet kisses, he pulled away, still hovering over her.

            "I thought ya'd never have me," he admitted.  "I love ya, Ci."

            "Oh, Murph, I love ya too."  She dragged him back down for another kiss, her face hidden in the crook of his arm.  The shadows of darkness had begun to fall, making the room dim.  He could just make out the soft shadow of her curves as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.  She was everything to him, soft and warm and beautiful.  He pulled her to him, brushing her hair away from her face.  

His warm hands explored the petal-softness of her skin beneath her shirt.  She arched her back in pleasure, nails tracing along the base of his spine.  He was so unsure, so inexperienced.  But so was she.  She felt a slight nervousness as he stopped his advances for a moment to remove his shirt.  He sensed her nervousness, backed away for a moment, shaking as he fought his desires.  "I'll stop," he breathed, voice barely audible against her ear as he held her close.  

"I don' wan' ya to," she answered, pulling him back down for another kiss.  She felt his arms tighten around her slender frame, lifting her slightly as he slid her tanktop over her head and gently kissed the curve of her neck, her collarbone, then down to her still-covered chest.  He ended at her bellybutton, making her chiseled stomach twist with unexpected excitement.  He had strong, broad shoulders and a beautiful, muscular chest.  She had always remembered him as the gangly boy from childhood, but he was over her now, boy-made-man by life's inevitable circle.  His eyes twinkled in the fading light as she kissed his cheek, biting his shoulder playfully as his hands twined through the fine strands of her hair and he kissed her again, smiling and laughing.  She tossed her head slightly, barely feeling the soft brush of his fingers against her back as he removed her bra and tossed it aside.  Neither felt the need to rush, reveling in each other a moment before continuing with the process of undressing one another. Ciara rolled over and pushed Murphy back against the pillows, kissing his navel and chest as she unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.  He could feel himself being stimulated, fought his urge to undress her too quickly and end the game.  He pulled her to her feet, struggling free of his jeans and helping her out of hers.  They stood together in the moonlight which streamed in from the window, shadows behind the curtains.  All that stood between them was her pair of slinky, satin bikini-cuts and his boxers; and in good Irishman fashion, Murphy was still in his socks.  Ciara laughed as he lifted her and lay her carefully on the bed, laying himself beside her and running his hand down the inside of her thigh.  She gasped in unforeseen pleasure at his touch, her small hand pressing him closer from the small of his back. Her hand strayed lower, sliding his boxers off.  She kissed him on the inside of his thigh, kissed the small of his back, then took off her own underwear in one smooth motion.  

They were laying side-by-side, facing one another, their efforts making them short of breath.  Murphy caressed her body from shoulder blades to hips, excited as she pressed against him.  She returned the touch, then rolled beneath him.  They hovered there for a moment, searching each other's eyes, waiting for the dissent which did not come.  After a long pause, they came together.  Ciara's eyes shone with blissful pain as he entered her.  She bit into his shoulder, gritting her teeth as he slid out, then in again.  Soon, the primal rhythm took over, pleasure replacing pain, both satisfying their urges and enjoying one another.  They climaxed at the same time, collapsing together in exhaustion, enjoying the feeling of him inside her, and her around him.  After one long pause, he pulled free, kissed her softly, and rolled her into his arms.  They both trembled from the rush of it.  Murphy found the blankets with shaking fingers and pulled them over Ciara and himself.  His arms wrapped around her, and he held her close.  Being with her had been like God speaking all over again.  He knew in his heart that this was the girl he wanted to marry.  There would never be another like her.  His childhood fantasies had all been satisfied after one night.  "I love you, Ciara.  More than life itself," he whispered, but she had already fallen asleep.  He kissed her eyes, joining her finally in the realms of exhausted, sweet slumber.


	6. Una Proposta Dell'Unione

Kiley awoke slowly, realizing that she was still sitting up, and that Connor's head still rested in her lap.  Her sleep-feeble mind tried to piece things together. The fight, the scene at the church, Connor falling asleep in her lap…It all snapped back into focus.  She decided to try and get up without waking Connor, which was a feat in itself.  He looked like a cherubic child in slumber, like the burden of birthright didn't exist in his dream world.  And he was heavy in comparison to her slight and tiny frame.  Still, she managed it with minimal repercussion, landing on both knees as she slid off the couch.  She stayed there for a moment, then crept to her feet, covering him with an afghan from the back of the couch before going toward the back bedroom.  She opened the door slowly, not expecting the scene which unfolded before her dark-accustomed eyes.  There were Ciara and Murphy, their clothes strewn all across the room.  Kiley stifled a shout of surprise as she closed the door. She hurried, speechless, down the hall.

"What is the commotion about?" Connor muttered, half-awake.

"They, um…they…um…" She pointed down the hall at the door.  Connor looked at her, mystified.  He stumbled to his feet and down the hall, opening the door.

"All ya had to say was sex. I'da gotten that."    
"She's a good Catholic!" Kiley sputtered.  "Savin' herself for the right man an' such…"

"Well, maybe she's foun' the right man," Connor replied, laughing.  Kiley's expression didn't change. "Aw, coom on, Ki.  Certainly ya didn' think yer sis was all tha' innocent now, did ya?"  He had a bemused expression.  When she said nothing, he leaned forward and kissed her.

"A'right.  Good fer her.  I 'ope there's a ring somewhere in all this.  Mam'll flip if she finds oot…"

"Then she won't find out, will she?  Coom on, Ki, better sex than another fight…" Kiley thought better of smacking him as Smecker and Il Duce entered the back door.  

"Where are yer sibs?" Papa MacManus asked, lighting a cigar and passing his lighter to Smecker.

"Still asleep," Connor murmured, cheeks reddening. 

"Git them up.  We've got work ta do."  Connor nodded slightly, retreating down the hall.  He shook Murphy, trying not to wake Ciara.  

"Coom on, Murph, get up.  Da has plans.  Oh, an' don' tell Ci I was in here.  Ya sly dog!"  Murphy attempted to punch his brother's arm, but Connor left the room and closed the door. 

"Ci, Ci!" Murphy whispered loudly.  "Da is here, wi' plans!"  Ciara rolled over, resisting the urge to put him in a headlock and go back to sleep.  "Ya comin', beautiful?" he asked, kissing her cheek. 

"Yah, I'm comin'," she said sulkily, still naked as she got to her feet.  Murphy sat there for a moment, watching her get dressed before pulling his jeans on.  She leaned over and kissed his forehead before emerging into the living room, where she was met with accusatory stares from her sister and the reddened cheeks of Connor as he hugged her in welcome.  They knew. Well, let them.  She had every intention of one day marrying Murphy.  She had heard his whisper in her ear the night before, but didn't know how to answer to what he had said.  

"There you are," Smecker clicked his tongue like a mother hen as they seated themselves on the floor.  Ciara slipped her hand into Murphy's, listening intently as Il Duce spread a blank paper on the floor in front of them and ran his fingers through his silver-gray hair.  It was only then that Kiley, who had emerged from the kitchen, realized how old the elder MacManus had become.  He seemed pale, his forehead lined with worry and weariness.  He shoulders seemed slumped, as though the burden of time itself had alighted on his shoulders.  What the younger folk didn't know wouldn't hurt them. He was terminally ill with cancer, and in his current profession, going to the hospital was a worse idea than waiting it out.  He had grown bitter, was feeling reckless.  He wouldn't let the illness take him.  He would die fighting, or not at all.

"We 'ave cameras set up 'ere an' 'ere," he told them, scribbling a rough diagram on the paper.  "Ciara, we are puttin' ya in alone.  Kiley'll wait with us for the signal tha' ya need help.  Paul 'ere has rigged the equipment to get audio as well, so all ya need ta do is call fer help an' we'll be there.  Ya okay wi' that?"  Ciara nodded, tightening her grip on Murphy's hand as he made to protest. He refrained from starting another argument.  They were going to have to start compromising sometime. She smiled gratefully as Il Duce continued outlining the plan for them.  "Kiley an' Connor'll be waitin' 'ere, in the ventilation system ta drop in as needed."  Both of them remained silent, Kiley sidling into Connor's lap as Smecker picked up orders where Papa MacManus had left off.

"Murphy, we need you to be stationed outside the room.  I borrowed keys to the apartment next door by pulling FBI rank on the landlord. You'll be watching from monitors there.  If things get a little crazy, you will be able to come in through the door and back up Kiley and Connor.  Your dad and I will be waiting outside with the car to get away if necessary.  We'll all be on wireless radio.  Keep in mind that Murphy will be the only one with the ability to clearly see what's going on inside the room."  Everyone nodded silently. Connor seemed to be considering the diagram very carefully.  He and Kiley both appeared to be assessing the situation.  Murphy met his brother's eyes for a moment, trying to remember what it was like when they had been the ones doing all the planning.  When they had staked out sites alone and done all the work.  He wondered if they had made the right decision, including the women.  After all, they had performed under stress.  What was to keep them from being hurt in the process, or to keep them from freezing up in the heat of the moment?  A bit of envy at the loss of closeness between Murphy and his brother bit him like an irritating insect.  He wondered how Connor was feeling.

Connor was attempting to keep himself from bursting out with the downfalls of his father's plan.  He loved and trusted his father above all else, but he had a nervous feeling that spread uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach.  He watched Kiley and Ciara disappear to dress Ciara for the mission, making no move at all from where he sat.  Murphy seemed in a foul sort of mood.  Connor realized that they hadn't had any time alone together since the women had arrived.  Life was changing at a pace which was making the world spin.  A few days ago he had seen only the two of them, sleeping side-by-side, showering together, suffering everything that came with their lifestyle together.  And while their lives seemed more complete with the women there, he realized that his brother still meant a lot to him.  "Murph?" he said tentatively.  But he knew just by looking into his brother's eyes that Murphy knew what he was thinking. 

"We'll discuss it with the girls later.  Ya know they'll understan'," he said quietly.  Pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, he popped two in his mouth and lit them both, passing one to Connor.  They smoked in relative silence, feeling for just a fleeting moment a shadow of the closeness that came with sharing the womb.  Connor smirked slightly, cuffing his brother on the shoulder. 

"Will ya listen ta us, thinkin' like a couple o' old men who've lost somethin'.  We've gained so much. I just…can't give up the bond with ya."

"And ya shouldn' have ta."  Both put out their cigarettes in unison, hunched over their knees, and smoothed their hair at the same time.  

Kiley and Ciara emerged then, laughing in strained tones.  Connor could see Kiley's nervousness in her step, how she wrung her hands with worry.  He knew she was more frightened than she let on.  Ciara, however, put on a facade of overwhelming calm.  It seemed as though she had come to terms with herself.  "What do ya 'ave?" Murphy asked her worriedly.  Ciara took off her jacket.  There was a shoulder holster, double-packed.  Four guns in all.  Down on her right ankle, she had strapped a smaller gun just above her boot, and on the left side, she had a knife for hand to hand combat.  She showed him the inside of her P-coat, which had three inner pockets filled with extra ammunition.  

"I'll be fine."  She pulled the coat back on.  No one said a word as they all sat, lost in private thought. Papa MacManus strolled in from the kitchen with two huge, black duffel bags.  He unzipped them, laying them in front of the brothers.  

"Ladies first," Connor said with a feigned smile, gesturing to Kiley.  She inched forward, rooting through the bags.  She pulled out the largest gun she could find, shaking her head and laughing.  She finally settled on two handguns, a throwing knife, and stuffed extra bullets inside her coat as her sister had done. Connor and Murphy took slightly larger weapons, and Connor's signature length of rope was slung across his shoulders.  

"Are we ready?" Il Duce asked.  At silence from his younger counterparts, he glanced around the room.  

"I will drop Ciara off at the apartment building.  The rest of you will follow in another car.  We'll take position in turns.  Kiley and Connor, you'll be first.  You'll go in around the back and into the air ducts through the grating at the end of the hall.  Murphy, you'll go in shortly after, up the back fire escape so no one sees you going ion.  We want Ciara to look like she is alone."  

"Five minutes," their father growled.  He stalked out of the room.  Everyone was too nervous to notice his intensity.  Connor swept Kiley into his embrace as she threw herself at him, kissing her.  Murphy and Ciara watched for a moment before pulling together in their own moment. He whispered in her ear, and the tips of her ears reddened slightly.

            When they pulled apart, Ciara was crying.  Murphy kissed her.  "I'll be fine," she assured him.  Something made her not want to let go of him as Smecker came in for her.  He waited patiently for her by the front door as she hugged Murphy one last time, then led her off.  Connor's heart went out to his brother for a moment.  Connor knew if it was Kiley in that position, he'd have fought the plan tooth and nail.  But Murphy and Ciara were risk-takers and doers.  And he was a thinker. Sighing, he waited his cue, hand-in-hand with Kiley.

            Ciara jumped out of the car, trying her best not to look over her shoulder.  Smecker drove away, and she was alone.  Not totally, she reminded herself. Everyone would be there to back her up.  And this was her fault.  Sighing, she imagined herself back in the schoolyard in Ireland.  She was sneaking off the grounds for the first time to meet up with Murphy.  If she had been caught, she'd have been in deep trouble.  Her mother would tan her hide, and the schoolmistress would keep an even closer eye on her.  She swallowed, doubting for a moment her ability to get off unnoticed.  Finally, she had taken the plunge, delighted to find Murphy waiting for her around the corner with their usual sandwich to share.  She had been a risk-taker from that day on.  _Now isn't the time to reminisce, _she scolded herself as she made her way up the stairs.  She would be okay.  

            Seating herself on Murphy's dingy mattress, she stared around the room intently.  This place wasn't exactly prime real-estate.  The boys wouldn't be able to settle down, she supposed, until God took them from their calling.  If she wanted to be with Murphy, she was going to have to face reality on all it's levels.  The double-headed shower dripped annoyingly on the cream-colored tile, which was still blood-stained from their last encounter.  The table was still over-turned, and cigarette butts trailed across the floor where an ash tray had overturned.  Ciara busied herself picking up a little, righting the table and tucking the simple blankets back around the beds. "All in position," Smecker's voice whispered in her earpiece. So, Kiley and Connor were overhead.  She listened more carefully, and could hear the slight pressure on the duct-work as the two shifted overhead.  She refrained from looking up.  She walked over to the wall which stood between her and Murphy, touching the cross she had scrawled there with pencil.  She leaned against the wall for a moment, reveling in it's sturdy construction for a moment before seating herself back on the bed.  She busied herself locating the cameras, then when she grew bored, lay down and pretended to sleep.  

            "They're comin' round the corner," Il Duce announced, a note of urgency to his tone.  "They're well-armed.  Ciara, be careful." She stayed completely still, hearing the lift doors bang open and voices down the hall.  They were speaking in Italian, which she knew well.  They were talking about cleaning  up the scene, and their plans for a hunt for the man who had killed Algo Cassini.  She was mentioned several times.  Apparently the new Don wanted her alive to talk to her.  A small reassurance.  She bit her lip until it bled, hearing the door open on it's creaky hinges.  

            "Shh, quiet!" the tallest of the ten said, pointing to her.  She was watching them from beneath hooded lids.  She allowed him to get within arm's reach and sprang into action.  She smashed a balled fist into the offending arm, flipping to her feet on one smooth motion.  Before she had time to think, two guns had appeared in her hands.  It was as though she were not in control of her body.  She shot efficiently, killing the man closest to herself and working her way out.  She missed a few times, shooting blind as she ducked behind the bed frame to avoid the shots flying at her.  She felt the guns knocked from her hands, felt the men bearing down on her.  She fought to free her arms and get to her knife, kicking and biting indiscriminately.  She could hear Connor and Kiley hit the floor, could see her sister taking down men by shooting them in the knees.  Connor was finishing them off.    
            "They've brought backup!" Smecker shouted.  Ciara could hear shouting in the hall, Murphy's voice among the cries.  He was shooting in the hallway.  She broke free long enough to get hold of her knife and began stabbing.  She could hear her sister's scream, Connor calling out to her.  They had been separated in the fray.  Ciara crawled across the floor, stabbing one man in the foot and getting hold of the small gun at her ankle. She shot at the empty doorway, screaming her sister's name tearfully.  When she had emptied the clip, she saw Murphy rolling on the hallway floor, grappling with another man.  It seemed he had the upper hand, until he got knocked over the back of the head by the butt of another gun.  He was out cold.  She could hear Connor's outraged challenge as Murphy was borne away by the enemy.  She managed to find her feet again, and recovered long enough to realize she had two more guns in her shoulder holster.  She cocked them, firing with deadly accuracy until Connor met her in the middle, and they had one man between them.  Ciara put her gun to his head, meeting his frightened eyes as her voice rang out her family's prayer.

Angels fly thee to thy rest

As we mundane complete our quest

Sending the wicked and filled with hate

To the judgment of Heaven's gate

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti

The resolve in her voice and hearing the prayer were enough to keep Connor away.  He hadn't been aware that the O'Fallon family had such a prayer.  He watched with grim satisfaction as the last man collapsed, transfixed by the bullet.  Ciara was covered in blood and gore from stabbing out with her knife.  She feel to her knees, throwing her head back as if to challenge the heavens.  Connor wondered what she was thinking at that moment as she screamed, an incredibly high, spirit-shattering scream.  He had always had his differences with her because of her attitude.  Pity won him over in the moment, and he walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder.  She spun around, wild-eyed, and threw herself into his waiting arms.  She was shaking and weeping.  "We'll get them back, Ci, I swear it ta ya.  They'll pay in blood." An angry sneer crossed his features, and he set his jaw before looking down at her.  

"We've got a lead," Smecker's voice said urgently.  "Your father caught one of them.  He knows Ciara.  Get her out here."

"Ya okay to walk?" Connor asked.  Ciara was still trembling uncontrollably.  She nodded, finding her feet and trying not to look down as she made her way to the door.  They had done decent damage.  Over thirty men lay dead.  The rest had escaped with their lives, and those of Kiley and Murphy.  

"This is my fault," she stammered, leaning against the wall of the lift.  She was only realizing how much damage the fight had done to them both.  Connor had a head wound, and a bullet lodged in his shoulder.  He was covered in various other bumps and bruises.  A long slash ran along the inside of his left leg.  She could see it through the shreds of his jeans.  "Yer not goin' anywhere 'til I check ya out." He looked at her, covered in enemy blood to her elbows, blackened eye, shot in the hip…she was gritting her teeth to walk.

"Since when did ya become a doctor?"

"Since I went ta medical school," she replied smartly.  Connor hadn't bothered to ask what the girls did for a living.  He was impressed.  The lift opened, and he helped her walk out of the building and into the waiting car.  She sat next to him, digging through her coat for the medical kit she always had handy.  Shining a flashlight into his eyes, she was relieved to find he didn't have a concussion.  She cleaned and wrapped the wound in the work of a moment, then set about checking his arm and shoulder.  He would have a hard time lifting anything heavier than a gun, but would be fine.  By dumb luck or God's will, the shooter had missed all major arteries in the arm, and the collarbone had stopped the shoulder shot before it did any real damage.  He was lucky.  She wrapped them with a tight bandage to staunch the flow of blood. The bullets would have to wait until she got to her bag back at the house for the proper tools.  She dressed his leg wound, then looked at herself.  She burst into hysterical laughter.  He wondered if he had lost her for a moment.  She suddenly returned to her usual self.  The bullet had barely grazed her hip, but a chip of bone stuck out at an odd angle.  She yanked it free, then stuffed a wad of gauze in the open wound.  She had no ice to see to her eye, so the usual brilliance of her left eye was obscured by purple flesh.  Connor probed it delicately.  "I'll be fine," she said irritably.  

"Yer tough, Ci.  I admire that," he said quietly. "Let's try to put our differences aside and work together on this.  I'm sorry."

"Together it is.  If we're gonna be family one day, we 'ave to like one another."

"Oh?" Connor asked, eyebrows raised.

Ciara smiled.  "He dinna tell ya then.  The last thing he whispered in me ear before I left was a marriage proposal."


	7. Salvataggio Daring

Ciara and Connor sat together on a park bench, looking down on the Italian Soldier Connor's father had stopped.  Both had mirthless expressions as they interrogated him.  "Ya work for Don Algo Cassini?" Connor ground out, the dangerous tone in his voice belied by his outer calm.  

            "I'll talk to her," the soldier returned, looking at Ciara.  

            "Then talk.  Me friend's not leavin'," she said, arms crossed.  

            "Ciara, you know me.  I'm not a bad person.  I just work to pay my bills.  I have a wife and family. They've threatened to kill my daughters more than once."  Ciara nodded.  Obviously she knew him from somewhere, for she seemed to agree with his story.  Connor wondered who he was as he started spilling details of what had happened since Algo Cassini's death.  How his brother had taken up arms against her and all she loved to avenge him.  The man's dark hair fell across his eyes in soft curls, hiding the lines of age which crossed his brow.  Connor saw the fear in his eyes.  It was genuine. This man was no ordinary soldier.  "I could lead you to them. For immunity.  Get me and my family out of here, and quick." Ciara nodded, touching Connor's arm to silence him as she knelt before their prisoner.  

            "I have the money to send ya where ya need to go.  But ya have to give up this business forever.  Swear it."  

            "I swear."

            "Done," she replied, looking meaningfully at their captive.  "Let this man up.  He's good as his word."  She watched as Smecker waited for Connor's approval before cutting the man's bonds.  He outlined a map on a piece of paper for them, including look-out spots and times when the guard changed.  The place he had described was a moderate-sized house, but it may as well have been a fortress the way it was guarded.  He sketched a brief working of the basement, where they held captives.  He hadn't been down there more than once, so his account was slightly hazy.  He finally wrote down his account number at Ciara's request for her to transfer money for his escape.  Connor watched with slight disappointment as the man was allowed to walk away unscathed.  

            "I dinna make plans ta bargain wi' the enemy," Connor told her, hiding his disapproval.  

            "He's a driver, nothin' more.  I seen his house an' the way they treat 'im. 'E's no more than a paid employee.  An' they 'ave threatened his family.  And asides, I owe 'im more than that.  He saved me life."  Before Connor could question her further, she changed subject to the plan for their rescue.  Connor hoped like hell that Murphy and Kiley would still be alive when they found them, and that Ciara wasn't mistaken.  

Kiley awoke to the room spinning like a top.  As she slowly became aware of her surroundings, she realized she was tied to a chair by her wrists.  Blood flowed freely from a jagged cut across her forehead, and her limbs ached in places she never knew existed.  Still, she was alive, and as far as she could tell, still held her virtue.  Cinder-block walls made drab décor.  The floor was concrete, and had nothing in the way of carpeting.  She realized during her visual tour of the room that Murphy was on the ground at her feet.  She held her breath and watched him for a moment.  He was still breathing, but unconscious.  She nudges him with a foot, hoping to stir him to consciousness.  

            She briefly remembered the last effort he had made to break free before they had knocked him out cold.  He was covered in cuts and bruises from the encounter.  A jagged slash ran across his back from shoulder to shoulder where one assailant had used a knife.  He had a huge bump on the back of his head.  Kiley was certain he'd have a concussion.  She assumed that Connor and Ciara had either escaped, or died fighting.  Either way, she felt terribly alone.  What if she never saw them again?  The thought was more than she could rightly bear.  She heard Murphy moan through dry lips at her last nudge.  "Murph!" she hissed under her breath.  "Murphy!"

            "I'm alive," he grumbled, still not fully aware of what was going on.  

            "Can ya move?" she asked him more urgently.

            "'M tied up," he replied with a slight slur.  "Think m' ribs're bruised, too."

            "Ya took quite the beating," she told him.  "How's yer head?"

            "Worse than any hangover," he replied, rolling over as best he could to meet her eyes.  He managed a crooked MacManus smile.  His teeth were crimson with blood from his bitten tongue.  

            "Think they'll come for us?" she whispered.

            "Knowin' those two? Surely," he replied.  "If they can agree."  

            Ciara glanced crossly at Connor, arguing with his plan for the fifth time in as many minutes.  "I'm lighter.  Let me in through the window.  Ya can take Agent Smecker wi' ya an' meet me in the middle.  Yer da can man the getaway car."

            "I don' wan' ya in danger."

            "Oh, an' it's okay fer you ta get into messes, but not me?  I'm alive, an' of my own accord," she snarled.  "This is my fault, an' that's my sis an' my fiancée in there.  I've as much reason as ya do ta be there."  She shook her head, trying to regain her calm.  "I promised Ki I'd always take care o' her," she explained more quietly.  

            Connor's expression softened.  "Yer right.  I am just worried is all.  I wonder if I'll ever see Kiley and Murph again."  Both gave into their fears for a moment, sitting side-by-side in silent contemplation.  Ciara burst into tears.  It was the first time he had ever seen her express anything other than anger.  He gathered her in his embrace, fighting the urge to cry himself.  They were so much alike.  Maybe that was why they had never taken time to get to know each other.  "Okay.  Ya go in through the window," he said after a moment.  "I'll take Smecker in wi' me through the front door.  Yer goal is to clear the house from the back an' get to the basement while we distract 'em.  I wan' ya to get them an' get out.  Got it?"  Ciara nodded, eyes hardening.  The saline trails of her tears ran soft fingers down her throat.  Connor wiped them away with shaking fingers. "An' promise me somethin', Ci."

            "What?"

            "We'll make time ta get ta know one another after this mess is over."

            "Ya got it," she said, managing a smile.  The smile lit up her face, making her seem so much like her sister.  Connor smiled back before leaving her to share their ideas with the others. 

            Connor waited around the corner in the bushes, looking the house over for the security points the driver had told them about.  He could see the large shadows of guards in the window, and two sitting out on the front porch with a pack of cards.  The street that the house sat on was a relatively quiet place in a respectable neighborhood.  Connor wondered if any of their neighbors had any clue what went on in the house.  It seemed nice enough, with a garden and well-tended lawns out in front. It was just the icing on an operation of Italian force.  

            He watched as Ciara made her way around the back of the house to find a window.  He noted her slight limp, but could hear nothing as she stalked across the road, over the fence, and out of sight.  He had to admire her ability to move silently.  He hadn't expected such a wonderful partner in crime.  Papa MacManus waved from the car that she had found a window.  That was Connor's cue.  He glanced back at Smecker before checking his loaded weapons.  He had two guns and loads of extra clips.  Smecker was armed with his 9mm, police-issue Beretta and was prepared with two other guns.  He would fire his clip, then keep reloading for Connor while he carried out the rest of the shooting.  Smecker loosened his tie before giving the okay signal.  They strode toward the front gate, bold as brass in broad daylight.  They were either very foolish or very brave, Connor wasn't exactly sure which.  

            Ciara made it into the second-floor window by climbing the drain pipe.  She crouched behind a bed, holding in her breath.  She sniffed disgustedly at the over-priced décor in the bedroom, stifling a laugh as she looked back at the tacky curtains.  No one had noticed her.  Now all she had to do was wait until she could hear Connor…

            "What are you doing?" Connor heard the challenge, but said nothing.  He raised both weapons and fired them into the faces of the enemy.  Both collapsed in nearly soundless death.  The use of silencers in a private neighborhood had been a wise call on Ciara's part.  Connor sneered in satisfaction as he made his way past the lifeless bodies and kicked the front door open with a bang.  Smecker followed him, flattening himself against a wall, gun cocked. Connor peered around the corner, firing immediately.  Smecker leaned around the corner just long enough to take aim at one of four men blocking their way.  Connor could hear shouts of dismay from the enemy as he continued his grisly task.

            "I think I 'ear guns," Kiley said quietly, struggling against her bonds.  No one had been in to interrogate them.  Kiley wondered what was happening above as the loud crash overhead signaled the collapse of a china cabinet.  She was about to say something else when two soldiers burst into the room, loaded guns pointed at their heads.  

            "You've served your purpose as bait.  None of you will leave alive," one laughed maniacally, terrified light blazing in his eyes.  Murphy heard the shot fired from the first gun.  He somehow managed to leap to his bound feet, throwing himself in the path of the missile as it flew at Kiley.  She let out a frightened scream as Murphy grunted in pain and surprise.  The bullet had hit him in his gut.  Still, he rolled over and crawled toward the men, cursing them in all manner of languages as he fought against the darkness overcoming him.  Kiley heard the click of the hammer from the enemy guns, closing her eyes as she summoned her courage.  She threw herself back with a cacophonous clatter of steel on concrete, saving herself by hitting the floor with so much force the wind was knocked from her lungs.  She rolled over, kicking out violently.  She was waiting for the shots that would end both of their lives when they heard an angry challenge from the top of the stairs, and watched in shock as their captors collapsed in lifeless heaps.  

            "Kiley?" an unmistakable voice called out.  It had to be Ciara.  Kiley was frozen for a moment before shouting back.

            "Ci!  Quick! We're tied up!  Murphy's been shot.  I don't know if they hit anythin' fatal."  Ciara's light footsteps changed to thunder as she charged down the stairs.  She pulled her knife from her boot and cut her sister free, then loosened Murphy's bonds and laid him out flat, paling at the sight of his blood running in a great pool from his abdomen.  She was afraid to move him, but knew they would all risk death if she didn't.  She lifted him with a grunt, passing Kiley a loaded gun.    
            "Cover us," she ordered urgently, leading the way back up the stairs.  Through the kitchen doorway, Kiley could see men falling left and right, hear the insane laughter of Connor as he sent the men to hell.  She met Smecker's eyes briefly before tearing out the back door after her sister.  Ciara urged her over the fence, and she struggled to hold Murphy's dead weight while Ciara climbed over.  They lifted him between them, sliding him on the back seat of the car.  The door was still thrown wide as Papa MacManus peeled off around the corner to hide from the sirens of the police.  They were coming to stop the fight.  Kiley watched in horrified fascination as the police snuffed out everyone who left the front door.  She saw Connor and Smecker clearing the fence.  

            "Righ' there!  I'll tell 'em where ta go.  Ya get Murphy home.  We'll see ya."  Kiley jumped from the car before her sister could protest.  Ciara looked helplessly down at Murphy for a moment, wondering if she could save him at all.  Her urge to heal finally took over, and she went to work. She cut Murphy's shirt from him with her knife, unbuttoned his pants, and finally managed to locate the wound by wiping some of the blood away with the shirt.  It was low on his abdomen, below the major organs.  Her only concern was the lower spine and the bleeding.  Probing the wound with her fingers, she found the bullet lodged only an inch inside.  It had been slowed down by something.  The blood loss was all she had to deal with.  She relaxed a little, pushing down hard on the wound with the shirt to slow the blood flow.  She would dig the bullet out when they got inside the house.  She watched Il Duce lift his son and carry him inside.  They lay him out on the kitchen table, and she prepared her instruments by heating them over flame.  She washed her hands thoroughly and put on gloves.  Digging around for a few moments, she came out with the bullet, glistening with Murphy's blood.  

            Ciara shoved gauze into the wound, cleaning it out.  Then she took a flame-heated tool and used it to cauterize the wound as best she could.  Finally, she bandaged it.  Disgusted and light-headed, she banged open the back door and retched in the grass.  Papa MacManus eyed her sympathetically.  "He's got to stay covered.  There may be fever from infection," she told him, salivating before vomiting again.  He nodded, carrying Murphy to the couch and covering him up before coming back out to her and patting her back.  

            "Yer a tough woman, Ciara.  Yer da'd woulda been proud o'ya."  She smiled ruefully.  

            "Would that 'e were here right now.  He'd ha' stopped my foolishness," she said, sighing.

            "Ci, yer da woulda done just as you had.  Yer mam never told ya where he went, did she?"

            "No."  Ciara crawled onto the back step, elbows on her knees.

            "Yer da fought wi' me.  Bravest man, fought like a thousand wildcats.  'E believed we were makin' a difference.  Any'ow, he was captured.  I tried ta rescue 'im, but foun' him already dead.  'E had killed 'imself, rather than letting them torture him.  Yer da wanted me safe.  Good man.  Yer da saved me life."  Ciara nodded slowly, wondering why the old man was telling her that.  "Ciara, if I tell ya somethin', will ya swear not ta tell another soul?"  She furrowed her brow, wondering what was such sacred information that she alone would know it.  Still, she shook her head yes, settling down next to him.  "I'm dyin'.  Of lung cancer.  I know damn well I am too far gone ta seek treatment.  I knew ya'd know first time ya saw me 'ave an episode, bein' a doctor an' all.  I wan' you to swear ya won' tell me sons what's happenin'."

            "I promise," she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes.


	8. Morte Di Un Hero

Connor entered the house hand-in-hand with Kiley.  She was so relieved to see him alive, she had promptly thrown herself at him and kissed him.  She was smiling now, if for no other reason than he was okay. There was an unspoken question on Connor's mind as he walked nervously around the corner and up the hall.  Was Murphy alive?  Kiley had described his sacrifice.  If he had died trying to save Kiley, Connor would feel no end of guilt.  He opened the door to their shared room quietly.  Murphy had been arranged carefully on one of the beds.  The steady movement of his breathing was that of sleep.  Connor lay down next to his brother, waving to Kiley, who stood in the doorway.  She closed the door silently, leaving them alone.  

            Kiley found her sister in the bathroom, showering.  She realized how dirty she felt, and remembered that she hadn't showered in three days.  She closed the door behind herself, undressing and climbing in the shower with her sister.  They said nothing, washing first in the stream of water, then embracing one another.  The water ran red with blood, hiding all traces of their tears as they wept.  Neither one had expected things to go quite like they had when they decided to stay.  "I love ya, Ci," Kiley whispered.

            "I love ya too, Ki."  After a long pause, they finally shut the water off and wrapped themselves in towels.  

            "Is Murphy going to make it?" Kiley asked carefully.

            "I hope so."  The girls walked together into the room where the brothers lay.  They tried to be as quiet as possible while they dressed themselves.  Kiley lay down on the other bed for a moment, then shook her head.  Unspoken agreement between them meant that neither was tired.  They instead busied themselves making dinner.  

            "Will we go home?" Kiley asked.  

            "I won', so long as Murph is alive.  'E asked me ta marry him.  So long as 'e breathes, I'm his."  Kiley managed a laugh.

            "That's good news," she replied, trying to feel good about it, but still having trouble.  If he died, she wondered what her sister would do then.  "Ya set a date?"

            "We will," she replied offhandedly, attempting to laugh it off. Kiley set about preparing the cabbage while her sister heated the corned beef in the oven.  They set the table together, trying their best to make it look festive.  Connor came out, perked up by the smell of good food.  

            "How's Murph?" Kiley asked.  

            "Still restin'."  Connor got his hand slapped as he reached for a piece of bread Kiley had cut from the loaf.  

            "That there is for yer brother.  You c'n wait."

            "Keeps goin' on about Ciara in 'is sleep.  Think 'e's relivin' moments."  Kiley nodded sympathetically.  

            "I'm takin' 'im food, seein' if he wants ta eat." Connor and Kiley exchanged glances.  They knew she would be going off alone to have a good cry.  They sat down together at the table, waiting for Papa MacManus to join them.  Smecker had gone home to rest and regroup.  The elder MacManus walked in a few moments later, slumping in his seat.  

            "Let's pray," he drawled.  They linked hands around the table, bowing their heads.  

            "Our father, who art in heaven,

            Hallowed be thy name,

            Thy kingdom come

            Thy will be done

            On Earth as it is in Heaven.

            Give us this day our daily bread,

            And forgive us our trespasses,

            As we forgive those who trespass against us

            And lead us not into temptation,

            But deliver us from evil.

            For thine is the kingdom, the power, and the glory

            Now and forever.

            Amen."

            "Amen," Kiley and Connor chimed. As they set into the food, they all remained lost in private thought.

            Ciara opened the door as quietly as possible, closing it behind her.  She clicked on the bedside lamp, setting down the plate she had made for Murphy on the table.   When he didn't move, she checked his temperature.  He felt comfortably cool.  She pulled the blankets back, checking his dressing.  The wound had stopped bleeding.  She could tell because the outer layer of bandaging was still white.  She let out a soft sigh of relief before tucking the blankets around him again.  As she made to leave, she felt his hand touching her leg.  His beautiful eyes flickered open, and he smiled crookedly at her.  "How're ya feelin'?" she asked him softly, running her fingers through his hair lovingly.  

            "Better," he replied in a dry voice.  

            "I brought ya some dinner," she told him.  "Let me get ya some water…"

            "Don't leave," he replied, hand closing around her cold fingers.  She bent forward and kissed his brow.  

            "I won'," she answered, breathing him in contentedly.  "Thank you," she whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears.  

            "For what?"

            "For savin' my sis."  He grunted as he attempted to laugh.  He caught her gaze with his own.  Those eyes twinkled as brilliantly as ever, like mischievous stars.  "I love ya."

            "I love ya too.  Thought fer a second I wasn't gonna get ta see ya in yer weddin' dress."  Ciara blushed furiously, trying hard not to burst into tears.  "I'll make it?"

            "I think so.  Ya don' have fever.  Though I'd recommend against runnin' or anythin' strenuous," she warned as his fingers combed through her unbound hair.

            "Ya need ta leave it down more often," he said absentmindedly.

            "Eat."  She helped him sit up and passed him the plate.  She watched contentedly as he tucked in to the food, sitting back on the other bed with her chin cupped in her hand.  Once she was satisfied he had eaten well, she too the plate and set it aside.  She knelt down beside him and kissed him passionately, the light flavor of the spiced cabbage sweet on his lips.              

            "We should go back ta Ireland for the weddin'.  So our mams c'n see ya in yer weddin' dress too," he continued.  Ciara let him talk himself back to sleep.  She would need flowers, he had always liked daisies, roses were too elegant.  And she would ride off with him on a white horse, and they would tour Rome on their honeymoon…Just thinking about it made her dizzy.  She wondered what Brighid would have thought, getting to wear a lovely dress at her cousin's wedding.  That sent her mind to sad realms of thought, and tears ran unbidden down her cheeks, her slim frame racked with silent, shuddering sobs.  She was glad for the moment of solace.  Even though Murphy was in the room, he'd sleep for a good while, and she was quiet enough not to wake him.  She finally fell asleep on the floor, saline from her tears staining her cheeks.  

            Kiley and Connor were curled together on the couch, bare feet and tangled limbs.  Connor had showered after he had eaten, feeling quite dirty after their ordeal.  They both looked surprisingly decent, despite what had happened to them only hours before.  Kiley had seen to their hurts.  She was no qualified doctor, like her sister, but she did learn enough from Ciara to be dangerous.  Kiley had been studying to become a teacher when they had still lived back in Ireland.  It seemed like that was years ago, in another time.  Only one week had passed since they had decided to stay, but so much had happened.  

            She was dressed in a long, sweeping skirt and a tanktop.  She had used flower-scented shampoo.  Connor breathed her feminine scent happily as he enfolded her in his arms.  Her hair was braided in two perfect plaits, as so many maidens still wore their hair in Ireland.  Her skin was smooth, porcelain-perfect.  His angel.  "Kiley, d'ya think we'd ever 'ave a chance at bein' married?"  Kiley smiled.  Connor didn't have to see her face to know she was smiling.  

            "Connor, my sis teases me all the time 'cause I was savin' myself for ya.  I told 'er the first time I saw ya," she laughed, "at three years old, I was gonna marry ya."  Connor felt his ears burning red with embarrassment.

            "Ya really said that?"

            "Ask Ci.  She'll quote me."  Connor pulled her into his lap, meeting her eyes.  

            "I…D'ya feel like we're movin' too fast?"  Kiley sat up, suddenly sobered.

            "Connor, in our line of work, we never know if we'll make it another day.  Better ta 'ave loved an' married early than never loved at all."  Connor nodded, caught up in the truth behind her words.  She was right.  He had always felt like he had nothing to lose, nothing to live for save his holy quest to wipe out evil.  But he realized that they had missed out on a lot until the women came.  His father had said that the women's visit would be good for them.  He was right.  "I don' care if we 'ave a ring or not, Con.  I love ya."  She kissed him sweetly, pulling away for a moment.  

            "Kiley?" Connor asked apprehensively.  He set her on the cushion next to him and dropped to the floor.

            "Yes?"

            "Will ya do me the honor of marryin' me?"  Kiley blushed from head to toe.  

            "Of course."  She threw her arms around his neck, feeling the fierce tenderness of his kiss overwhelm her.  

            "Whoo!" Connor whooped, beside himself with excitement.  

            "What?" Murphy groaned from down the hall.

            "Sorry, Murph, I was just happy about my fiancée marryin' me," Connor returned loudly.

            "Really?  Me too!" he shouted in return, wincing as his wound stung from the sudden bellow of his own voice.  Ciara stirred slightly, but did not wake.  Murphy dragged himself upright using his elbows and looked down at her.  He wondered what she had been crying about.  Throwing his better judgment to the winds, he sat all the way up. After a moment of gathering his courage, he managed to get to his feet.  The wound was very painful, but he was careful not to strain it as he knelt beside her in his boxers.  He brushed Ciara's hair from her face, hearing her sigh softly.  "Ci?"

            She opened her eyes, disoriented for a moment.  When Murphy's face came into focus, she realized where she was.

            "What're ya doin' out o' bed?" she chided, sitting up suddenly.

            "What're ya doin' on the floor?" he returned.  "Ya should be up there wi' me."  She broke into a wide grin, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him.

            Two days later, Ciara finally gave Murphy the okay to be out of bed.  He walked carefully, a shuffle to his step.  Kiley, Murphy, and Connor were gathered around the kitchen table, playing a mean game of cards.  Kiley was showing everyone up, hitting the whiskey the most out of anyone.  Connor would laugh every time she beat him out, exchanging glances with his brother.  They had all temporarily forgotten the weight of their work, and spent the time enjoying their lives.  "So, what did yer mam say?" Connor asked Ciara as she hung up the phone and glided into the kitchen.  

            "She's not surprised.  Said her an' Da had put together a goodly amount of savings toward our weddin's.  She insists we go home to be married."

            "I'd have guessed as much," Murphy teased, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into his lap.  He kissed her before dealing the cards.  

            "Has anyone seen Da today?" Connor asked them suddenly, brow immediately furrowed with worry. 

            "Now that ya mention it, no."  Murphy looked out into the living room, past Kiley's shoulder.  It was empty.  No one had really thought much if Papa MacManus disappeared for an hour or so at a time, but all day was truly unusual.  

            "He hasn't looked well the past few days," Kiley remarked.  This comment made Ciara stiffen in Murphy's arms. What if he had done something foolish?  She knew he wanted to die fighting or kill himself before the cancer did.  Was he somewhere in the middle of a battle he knew he couldn't win?

            "Ci?  Ciara?"  Murphy asked her gently, his fingers trailing softly down her arm.

            "Eh?"

            "Are ya a'right, Darlin'?"  She nodded absentmindedly, trying to put such thoughts from her mind.  But then, it did make sense.

            "Is there somethin' you wanna tell us?" Connor asked, seeing the undertone of panic in her emerald eyes.  

            "I canna," she replied, looking down at her hands to keep from crying.  Kiley looked at her sympathetically.  "I could go lookin' for 'im," she said finally.

            "Why don't we all go?" Kiley, suggested.  "If we're all tha' worried…"

            "Why can't ya tell us?" Connor asked, shaking her by her shoulders.  Murphy knocked his hands away when she still said nothing.  

            "Leave her be.  Let's go look."  He was worried about Ciara, but knew she would have told them something if she felt it necessary.  She shook her head helplessly, heading for the front door.  She hadn't even rounded the corner when realization dawned on her.  She broke into a run, Murphy, Kiley, and Connor calling after her.  She glanced back at them one more time before bursting into a flat sprint and cocking her gun as she ran.  She knew where he would be.  She could hear three sets of footsteps behind her, one more uneven than the others.  Murphy was running.  She'd have to chide him later.  If Ciara's suspicions were correct, Papa MacManus would be storming the courthouse to finish off the Cassini family.  It was essentially as suicide mission without the Boston Police being aware of it.  She threw her gun over the metal detector, which was unmanned, rolling on the ground to catch it before it went off.  She raced up the steps to the balcony, hearing the shouts of terrified women.  She knew he was behind them.  Changing her mind about being caught with her gun out, she hid it in her waistband, creeping up to the back doors and peering around the corner.  The sight that greeted her was unexpected.  Among the marble and oak panels of the courtroom, mass murder had taken place.  Despite the several bodies dressed in the unmistakably lavish finery of the Cassinis littering the ground, many bystanders lay dead.  She wondered what had transpired.  When the room fell silent  in a few seconds, the unbearable feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach.  She looked down over the courtroom, finding things were worse than she had feared.  There, on the cold tile of the floor, Papa MacManus stared up at her through sightless eyes.  There was no spark of life to speak of.  Still, his body convulsed with the painful coughing of his blood.  

            "Da! No!" Connor screamed from over her shoulder.  She felt him collapse in agony, heard the clatter of furniture overturning as Murphy incurred his wrath upon them.  Kiley said nothing, but stood there with tears in her eyes, arms crossed.  Ciara alone stood dry-eyed, watching the grief of the brothers with guilt in her heart.  She should have told them.  Murphy and Connor were leaning on one another for support.  Ciara glanced at her sister, dropping to her knees.

            "And shepherds we shall be

            For Thee, my Lord, for Thee

            Power hath descended forth from thine hand

            That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command

            So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,

            And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

            In Nomine Patris, Et Filii, Et Spiritus Sancti."  She crossed herself before gathering the strength to return to her feet.

            "Let's go, afore they find us 'ere," Kiley said for her.  She didn't know what involvement her sister had in this disaster, but she knew the reason was likely a good one.  The girls supported the men in stoic silence.  Connor was staring daggers at Ciara.

            "What d'you know?  Ya have ta be hidin' things from us!  Ya knew!" he shouted angrily.  Ciara knew it was his grief driving him to anger, not his heart.

            "Yer da asked me ta keep quiet about somethin' for 'im," she replied.  "I dinna know where he was goin' today.  It was a lucky guess.  But I do know why 'e did."

            "Why's that?" Murphy pleaded with her, red-rimmed eyes meeting her own.  His sadness stung her heart.

            "Yer da was dyin'.  O' lung cancer.  He knew I'd advise 'im ta go ta treatment, an' he couldn't cope.  He tol' me 'e'd rather go down fightin', an' not ta tell anyone.  He knew I'd know when 'e 'ad an episode, me bein' a doctor.  I was keepin' my word by not tellin' ya.  Ya have ta understand.  I knew 'e'd do somethin' foolish that was suicidal.  An' this was my first guess when I saw the pretrial announcement in the news earlier.  Ya 'ave to understand, I wanted ta tell ya…"  Ciara sped up her pace to be away from them.  Disapproval was too painful for her to bear, especially from the only family she had left.  She had dealt with it all her life, thinking she was in the right.  This moment made her wonder.  

            "Ciara, wait," Connor called to her.  "Ya did right.  I never woulda been able ta keep that ta myself.  Says a lot about ya."  Connor managed a meek smile.  "D'ya think 'e was suffering?"

            "It's hard ta say.  Yer da was a tougher man than any I know.  'Cept maybe 'is sons," she said for their benefit, smiling.  "He wanted it this way."

            "It was kind o' ya ta say our family prayer for 'im," Murphy said quietly, drawing her into his embrace.  

            "So, what now?" Kiley asked, walking more slowly to catch her breath.  "The Cassini family is dead."  None of them said anything for a long while.  Even after they had entered the house and sat down on the floor in a circle, no one felt much like talking.  Connor suddenly burst into a coughing fit.  Ciara wondered if he was in his right mind.  

            "We go ta Ireland," he declared, looking to them all for approval.  "Ta put a marker where Da woulda been laid ta rest, an' ta see our families.  Let's go home."  No one seemed to disagree.  After another long silence, everyone went to pack their things for the journey, one word on their minds: Home.


End file.
